The Next Big Thing

you didn't even wanna come home with me that night, i swallowed my pride and almost begged you. the lack of life in my eyes caught your attention and you came. on the ride home you rested you head and i was happy to have my lap full. every pothole we hit didn't register. it was one of our last times together (i never saw it coming), i pulled you aside when we got back to your house and i asked how you felt about me. you kissed me like you had always wanted, like when you dated that chubby philanderer - as i'd come to call her - and i wouldn't be within miles of you. none of it mattered because you failed to answer the question. it had become my bible, i studied it until my eyes drooped and died, they couldn't see clearly. and you kept on living like our production had never existed. nothing ever pulled on you, got you frantic - it all did to me. they all thought just because my lifeless body was still breathing they shouldn't put me in the ground. boy were they mistaken. i was low enough and i was done living. peace might have come had you tossed your fistful of dirt over top my grave.

i didn't really want to die, but i really didn't wanna come back to life. however, i misjudged the presence of religious zealots, and overestimated the revelations they would all suddenly have after the initial shock of my blessed miracle. one night too i had a dream that the government seized me and took me to an abandoned lab furnished with faces frozen in time. they ran tests on me, but that was never the case. i woke up feeling less convinced i'd be the governments number one target. the zealots terrified me though because i had nothing to prove, but i was aware they'd force my participation in spectacles. it had always had success with their transgressions and how the choose to spread the word.

when i came back to life is an impossible moment to describe. but i imagine it felt something like being jolted by those paddles dr's use to restart your heart.
in my case however life had slowly built backup over time but i only realized it in one quick instant. just like that i took everything out of the drawer and got it back up on the shelf and if you come over today and saw it i'd make sure to tell you i did it all without help.

Keep On

i was walking down the street getting as close to a skip as i'll allow myself. i was singing aloud with my headphones on like i'd quit my day job. an old man with a cane turned the corner at a much slower pace than he probably desired, and my happiness was radiating. he recognized the smile and rather than question me he just briskly stated as we crossed paths "you're happy". my response went unverbalized but takes one to know one.

now, this was a far cry from the days where i'd get to the city, get off the train and immediately check the time table to see that first train i could take back home. the same days where i'd wind up home at the train station and have to sleep it off in my car for a couple hours. these were the furthest things from my mind. the dark ages. i'd usually wake up sober wondering where i went wrong. and for a while i was skeptical that i'd never be as happy as i had been in the past. and i don't know how but i've finally learned that hurt is an everyday thing - but bundled with hope and respect, and maybe some courage, life is bearable all the time, and enjoyable almost as much. you can have everything and nothing all at the same time, it's the definitions that make the decisions.

and old friend used to tell me that being selfish is a good thing. in my angst i believed it to be the only thing, now i see otherwise. in being selfless i've found pounds of a better type of selfishness. it's great giving back to people and it in fact feels so good that you being to grow accustomed to the feeling, wanting to recreate it at any opportunity. it's turned into a semi-selfish motive for being selfless.

there's just one last thing i'd like to address: people have told you something along the lines of all things that are worth it in life must be attained through hard work. what a sham - i'd put money on the idea that the pioneer of this statement wasn't a very happy individual. as i've grown painstakingly slow over the past couple of years i'm beginning to truly believe that the best things come the easiest.

Peach Flavored Yogart

yesterday i threw a carton, if that's what you call it, of activia yogurt out the window of my car and after the explosion i loved watching the extra-light orange color canvas itself over the black pavement. it really was the most beautiful thing i've seen in a while.

it turns out no one wants to hear your sadness. or even wants to see it. or acknowledge it. or try and help you through it. although my ex-bff offered me her prozac script. that HAS to count for something...anything?

and i'm a fraction of what i thought i'd be today
caught in the worst jag so i grab my keys race for the car
burning out and i was never that bright to begin with
getting ready, making progress, hands are steady
feeling my flesh burning up from the fear i torched
at the impossibility of being any more scattered
you come along and blow about the debris of me

"Who Does That?"

my friend Erin told me i need to get help. not in the joking way, but in the you seriously need clinical professional help from a therapist way. of course i'm excused because i lack insurance, but in the mean time i've considered the fact that i am a little crazy. roughly speaking. not in the i'm dancing around naked talking about Vietnam way either. just in the i have some issues looming overhead that are causing me some serious fucking problems way.

then i remember a few days back Erin looked at me and i don't exactly remember the context of a surely serious conversation but she said "who does that?" - and she was referring to my red hat and how i wear it everyday. all through summer. all through winter. happy. sad. excited. disappointed. drunk. sober. willing. pumped. angry. laughing. joking. serious. bad. good. beginning. end. in the car. at my job. listening to the radio. and i can't remember my exact response, i'm sure it was a defensive "well i love this hat". but running through my head were a series of cartoon characters because they're the only people i could think about that wear the same hat all the time.

but what followed wasn't a feeling of insecurity or shame. i really don't care if people judge me and think i look stupid with the hat, or think it's weird, or ridiculous and all this garbage that people believe because it's the norm. fuck 'em. and i'm sure a therapist would tear my red hat obsession to shreds, and from it harness the symptoms of a thousand diagnosable conditions. but let the truth be told when i say i know i'm nuts. plain and simple. and until my red hat disappears, or gets hatnapped, or even worse...murdered, i will continue to wear it, and not give it even the slightest piece of a second thought.

that's just me.

and it's really quite a riot because before i was even allowed the chance to publish this post i actually had my hat off at my job and this guy i work with mentioned that it might be too hot to wear, but that it also must be my signature because "it's been going on since before winter". and then in a conversation with Erin titled "Things I Put Up With From You" she immediately called out my red hat as a prime example. she's just too good to me.

If You Seek Amy

simply put, things that i considered sacred you put on blast.

thank you.




and i hope you die lying next to me so i can smell the decay of your death first.




try that on for size.

A Lyre

haven't you ever felt so broken you just wanted to disappear?
or so lonely you wanna throw the towel in?
could happiness become extinct , or just die out?
you know what's weird? when i was really happy, like genuinely happy, i wanted to die because i figured what are the chances i'll die happy yanno.
i looked coldly into the eyes of friend/co-worker and told her happiness is a lie. and the sad part was i believed it, for at least that second. i have, through the workings of life decided that's the lie. i think i wanted to believe it because that would have meant i'm not a total failure - yet. it could have meant i might keep things lax for a while, and stopped feeling that pressure - which has for better or worse, become my motivation. so now that i've regained my stance on happiness what am i to do?

keep looking for it.

happiness is a 9 letter word. and it's the truth.